


Pornography

by wreathed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Rejection, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not for the pleasure of the actors, but the pleasure of their audience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pornography

They are too world-weary for unnecessary secrets. _I want you_ , John tells Lestrade, in the beginning, but it does not take them long to admit they are each other’s consolation prize, to start conveniently forgetting to shut the door to John’s bedroom.

( _Yet if you were dying, he’d come running_ , Lestrade says to him afterwards.)

Their fucks become ever more contrived as time goes on, as they start to try what _he_ might like rather than what turns the other on; louder, too, and harder, and soon they’re so desperate to be noticed by the man who notices everything that they start undressing each other in the living room, Lestrade sitting in _his_ armchair, John straddling Lestrade’s lap, filled, and Lestrade grabs John’s shoulder and starts to thrust just as Sherlock comes through the door.

(Sherlock stands, silent, still in his coat, not appearing in the slightest bit surprised, and they don’t even try to pretend that they haven’t seen him.)

John and Lestrade carry on fucking, twisting their necks to keep catching his eye, to try and monopolise his attention – Sherlock, both the silent observer and all three's focus; the video camera to their shameless show – and John and Lestrade grunt and groan and Lestrade sucks on John’s fingers and John throws his head back and they’re so busy acting that it is only the most cursory level of pleasurable, but it’s not that kind of pleasure that’s the motive.

Sherlock is the motive, the end to the means, the centre of their world (girlfriends and wives have been discarded for the sake of him, after all). John knows Sherlock well by now, and so he recognises the look on Sherlock’s face; from the wrinkle at his nasal bridge, however hard they try, Sherlock is thinking _boring_.


End file.
